Whenever I hear a cadre of teenage girls cackling shrilly in the nearby vicinity, I still for a split second wonder if they are laughing at me.
I don’t really think they are. More than anything, it’s the volume of their voices that bothers me—because for some reason teenagers operate at a different decibel level than the rest of us.
But I still remember that awful feeling of walking around the corner in the halls in high school and seeing/hearing a group of kids start laughing as soon as they saw me. How my face would burn red with embarrassment, and how frustrated and angry I would get with myself because I didn’t understand why they were laughing, or how could I get them to stop.
This happened in the produce section of the supermarket today, hearing that laughter. Luckily, that moment of wondering didn’t last too long, and was immediately beaten into submission by Logical Amy, who then stood up inside my head, fist raised and shaking in the air, grumbling, “Hey you kids, be quiet, I’m tryin’ to squeeze some eggplants here.”
And I was me again, and I was okay.